


and baby come find me after you've found you

by lonelyapplesauce



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, F/F, F/M, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, inspired by ffx, maybe? idk how to tag tbh, more relationships will be added as story progresses - Freeform, no beta we die like Glenn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-10-15
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:08:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26759245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lonelyapplesauce/pseuds/lonelyapplesauce
Summary: When Felix's major crest first manifested and they had made their promise to stay together and die together, Sylvain had known they wouldn't be able to keep it. His father had always made sure he'd known that while his minor crest was a "blessing" it was his duty to further their bloodline, not die as a Guardian defeating Sin. And then Felix went missing and it was all a mute point anyway.Now, nearly a decade later, Felix is back with an Oracle at his side and his Pilgrimage set to begin. Ingrid thinks it a sign from the Goddess; Sylvain knows it's the beginning of another tragic cycle. Between Sin reemerging earlier than ever and Saints disappearing left and right it's a recipe for disaster.But damn if Sylvain isn't going to do his best to make sure they all pull through._____Or alternatively - my very self-indulgent Three Houses but make it Final Fantasy X AU. FFX knowledge helpful but absolutely not necessary to understand. Spoilers for both games as I attempt to weave this lore.
Relationships: Felix Hugo Fraldarius & Ingrid Brandl Galatea & Sylvain Jose Gautier, Felix Hugo Fraldarius & My Unit | Byleth, Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Comments: 8
Kudos: 11





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Like the alternative summary states - this is the Three Houses/FFX crossover my heart desired and no one asked for. Join Saint Felix as he embarks on a journey around Fodlan with his Guardians at his side as he gains the crests and power necessary to defeat Sin. For good.
> 
> Lowkey this is my first fanfic in YEARS and first time using AO3. Please feel free to let me know if I'm doing/tagging/w.e. wrong or if there's a better way to go about it.
> 
> Title (may be subject to change) comes from The World by TeZATalks
> 
> No Blitzball. Non.

They say the demonic beasts appeared as penance for the King of Liberation’s crimes against the progenitor goddess, Sothis, and her children. A physical manifestation of the envy and fear that corrupted their hearts turned against them.

_“NO!” the cry seemed to come before the pain. And yet, dark eyes meet the blurry haze of black and gold rather than pale eyes and paler hair._

But Lady Seiros, daughter of the slain goddess, was forgiving. She offered Nemesis and his men a way to repent for their sins. She wouldn’t vanquish the monsters they had created with their deeds, she wasn't that forgiving. But she would grant them the tools necessary to face their sins.

_A blink, and suddenly it was cool stone against her cheek._

_“Do not worry mother, I will not let them take you from me again.”_

From the blood and bones of the Divine Nabateans, both living and slain, the Lady Seiros crafted her boons from where they had retreated into the Far Plane. From their blood, twenty crests were created. These crests gave the fallen warriors the ability to transform into the dragons from which they had come. In these forms they were able to summon the power needed to defeat the demonic beasts that threatened to wipe out all of humanity.

These victories were short lived. A new creature crawled its way from the very depths of hell. A great demonic beast that could decimate entire towns on its own. A great beast from which lesser demonic beasts seemed to stem.

_“What have you done to her?!”_

_“Nothing that cannot be repaired once mother reclaims what is hers…”_

Once again Nemesis and his Elite turned to Lady Seiros for aid against this terrifying new threat. From the bones of their dragon bodies, she created shrines across the land. Those tasked with making right humanity’s wrongs could pray to the Nabateans housed in these temples for the power and guidance needed to protect their world. If they were found worthy, the Nabatean spirits would grant additional crests and draconic forms. As king and the original sinner, Nemesis completed the first Pilgrimage. With new power and two of his Elites by his side, Nemesis faced down the great demonic beast, Sin itself, and struck it down on the Tailtean Plains. After Sin fell, so too did the other demonic beasts scattered across the land, ushering in a new era of Calm. But it was not without its price. Nemesis and his two Elites fell with the beast as if to ensure with their very souls that it would torment their people no more. The King of Liberation was revered as a Saint.

_“Please my Saint, we cannot afford to tally here!”_

_“You’re right. We can’t let this monster continue to hurt innocent people with her lies any longer!”_

Calm, however, does not last forever. Ten years after Nemesis slayed Sin it reappeared with a new form. This time it was Wilhelm the First who took on the pilgrimage, aided by the Elites Lamine and Maurice. Though they too met the same fate of Nemesis at the Plains before them, they were able to save the people from Sin for a second time. 

And thus a cycle was born. Those chosen who were granted crests would take on the Pilgrimage across Fódlan to gain the power to defeat Sin when it made its return a decade from when it had last been destroyed. Though its form would change each time, its cruel acts and power remained a manifestation of the original Sin.

As all things do, eventually the potency of crests in bloodlines began to wane in some individuals. Soon only those with Major Crests were able to withstand the dragonic transformations. They became revered as Saints on their journeys, sacrificing their lives so that others may live in Calm - even if it was only for a short time. A monastery dedicated to Lady Seiros, a faith later known as the Church of Seiros, was founded at Garreg Mach to train future Saints for their upcoming journeys. Those with Minor Crests often served as Guardians to the Saints like the Elites of old, their crests still granting them superior strength against the demonic beasts. The Guardians served to aid Saints on their Pilgrimage and to the Tailtean Plains, the final battleground of Sin. A destined cycle.

_“Wait what’s that light?!”_

_“MOTHER, PLEASE DO NOT LEAVE ME!”_

_“Byle-”_

But nothing is endless. And cycles are bound to be broken.

______________

“Hey. Wake up.”

Groaning she flexed her fingers, distantly wondering at why she envisioned hard stone when the ground below her gave way to wet earth. Blinking against the harsh dawn, she stared up at a steady blade and a stern, pale face.

“Who the hell are you?”


	2. Childhood

The worst day of Sylvain’s young life was the same day that Felix’s major crest first showed itself. Most would assume this was due to Miklan’s latest attempt at becoming the sole Gautier heir. Not that those people would be entirely wrong - the well incident was certainly traumatic. The seemingly endless water below him, the slimy stone surrounding him giving him his first taste of claustrophobia at age nine, the light beyond the lip of the well disappearing as his vision hazed. Yet none of those fears came even close to the far sight of Felix above him, leaning haphazardly over the side, pale pudgy arm outstretched as if he could reach Sylvain so far below. Sylvain was half convinced he could hear the tears hitting the surface of the water as they fell from his amber eyes as his head slipped beneath the surface.

“Sylvain grab my hand! Syl-VAIN!”

Sylvain was sure that Miklan had finally succeeded. That as he began to sink, water burning in his chest as it weighed him down, that this was his end. Despite what the stories he read had said about heroes seeing their lives flash before their eyes as they die, Sylvain didn’t see any of that. Instead he was sure that he saw a giant, dark shape break through the water above him, just as he lost consciousness. 

The next thing he remembers are the loud sounds of Felix sobbing and his weight on his chest. When he finally opened his eyes he was met with a face full of dark hair and no Miklan in sight. He’d had no time to gain his bearings as the sound of thundering steps echoed and Felix was pulled away from him. Sylvain remembers reaching back for Felix who had continued his hysterics, fighting against his father’s arms, only to have his own slapped away by his father as he was turned over to the family healer. 

Later after everyone had been calmed down, Sylvain had found himself in his family’s entertaining room in front of a crackling fire with a heavy blanket around his shoulders and Felix practically glued to his side. He remembers listening to Rodrigue as he spoke to them about what had happened and what was going to happen with Glenn sat at his feet with a worried expression. About how a crest expert named Hanneman was going to come from Garreg Mach to test Felix. About how Miklan swore that Felix had turned into a  _ monster _ and dived into the well after Sylvain had “tripped” and fallen there. Felix had interjected then, yelling about how Miklan had pushed him, despite Sylvain squeezing his hand in a silent plea to stop, his own eyes seeking out his father who watched the scene with a face of stone. Rodrigue assured them that everything would be fine, that Hanneman would be able to explain what had happened. 

Sylvain’s chest felt tighter then, than when he had been drowning in the well, and he knew that everything would  _ not _ be fine. But still, in the dead of night under their shared blanket, Sylvain made a promise with Felix - that neither would die before the other. That they’d stay together until they died together.

But even back then, Sylvain knew their world wouldn’t let them keep it.   
______________

Sylvain was right. At the end of the week Hanneman arrived and put some of Felix’s blood in a machine while Felix held tight to Glenn’s hand, trying to look brave. A Major Crest was declared and before they knew it they were in Fhirdiad with Dimitri and Ingrid, preparing for his leaving ceremony. 

At nine years old Sylvain was never more aware of the age gap between himself and his friends. At seven years old his friends were excited about the upcoming festivities. At seven years old they tried and tried to get Felix to use his crest and turn into a dragon. At nine years old Sylvain prayed and prayed that he wouldn’t be able to - that Miklan and the machine had been wrong and it was all just a misunderstanding. At seven years old his friends talked about how they would all join together to defeat Sin forever - like the knights and heroes in their stories. At nine years old, Sylvain knew how those stories ended in real life, even without his father pulling him aside and explaining how he would never be a Guardian - how it was Sylvain’s duty to ensure the future of their crestline. At seven years old Felix stared with stars in his amber eyes as King Lambert crouched in front of him patting his head, his own hair gleaming silver in the light, and declared with a booming voice that Felix must study hard and do his best to follow in his footsteps. At nine years old Sylvain felt a constant weight in his stomach as he saw the fear and worry hidden behind Glenn’s blue eyes and tight lips. The worry in Ingrid’s father’s eyes as he debated the future of Galatea with Rodrigue. At seven years old his friends still believed in hope and miracles and the heroes defeating the monster to live happily ever after. At nine years old Sylvain knew that “happily ever after” were for people without crests and noble expectations. Saints and their Guardians would never know Calm.

The festivities for a future Saint were celebrated in the capital for two weeks. They ended with a caravan from the Church of Seiros leading the newly discovered Saint away to Garreg Mach. As Felix hugged each of his friends goodbye, he promised to see them all as soon as possible. Promised that the next time he saw them ‘ _ he’d be able to turn back into a dragon for sure! _ ’ Sylvain knew there wouldn’t be a next time. As Felix waved goodbye from the carriage window with tears in his eyes and Sylvain watched from the castle steps, he knew this was an ending. Felix didn’t belong to them, or Faerghus anymore. 

Felix didn’t even belong to himself. 

______________

Years later when Sylvain was sixteen years old, he attended his first Calm celebration. There were four main celebrations taking place simultaneously throughout Fódlan in honor of Sin’s latest defeat - Fhirdiad for The Holy Kingdom of Faerghus, Enbarr for the Adrestian Empire, Derdriu for the Leicester Alliance and the last at Garreg Mach. The celebration at Garreg Mach was by far the grandest and most elite, for it also served as a funeral. Since Nemesis first undertook the Pilgrimage and defeated Sin not a single Saint or Guardian had survived the final battle at those sacred, blood stained plains.

And it was no different for Saint King Lambert and his Guardians, Sir Glenn and Dame Helena. 

Funnily, King Lambert was never supposed to be a Saint. Though he was born with a Major Crest of Blaiddyd and had  _ almost _ completed his Pilgrimage in youth, he was deemed more important to continuing the royal line of Faerghus. But the Saint who was expected to be the one to fight Sin this cycle, Saint Cassandra, was reportedly struck down by one of her own Guardians just outside Gaspard. An Oracle from the Church of Seiros had recommended waiting for the next, Saint Balthus, to finish his Pilgrimage. 

Then Sin had decimated the entire nation of Duscar. 

After that King Lambert decided that nothing, not even his kingdom, deserved to stand in the way of the good of all Fódlan and took up his Pilgrimage once more leaving an estranged brother to serve as regent in his place. Never minding the families destroyed in the wake. 

Speaking of which.

“Ingrid, I’m so sorry,” Sylvain murmured into the thick blonde hair tucked under his chin. In response he caught a full body shudder followed by deceptively thin arms further constricting his chest. They stood together for another few minutes, soft waves of other mourners dressed in black ebbing around them, almost like a shield against the surrounding celebration. With a final squeeze she pulled herself away, the only sign of her lack of composure the swelling red of her eyes. 

“It hurts but he died in the service of Saint Lambert for the good of all of us.” Sylvain grimaced, sick already of the sacrificial dialogue they’d been fed all their lives and the service hadn’t even started. 

“Ingrid-”

“Ingrid, Sylvain.” Turning Sylvain watched as the Duke Fraldarius made his way towards them, black mourning coat billowing behind him. Looking him over, the Duke looked much the same as the last time Sylvain had seen him - the only sign of the loss of another child in the lines around his eyes and the shadows below. 

“Duke Fraldarius, I am sorry for your loss.” Sylvain said with a bow, parroting the formality his father had beat in his head before letting him out of his sight. To his surprise, Rodrigue merely clasped his shoulder in a familiar manner.

“Please Sylvain, none of that. Right now I am merely a proud father, here to celebrate the memory of his son and the Calm he has brought.” Rodrigue gave them a warm smile, “Speaking of sons, have either of you seen Felix yet?” 

Only practice kept Sylvain from jumping in shock, “Felix is going to be here?” practice did not quite manage to keep the excitement out of his voice, judging by the indulgent look Rodrigue gave him.

“Normally Saints, even those in training, attend the sermon at the Celebration of Calm. However, since one of the champion Guardians was his brother the Oracle Seteth granted him permission to attend the funeral instead. He should be here with His Highness soon, I believe the rights are going to begin shortly.”

“His Highness? How’s his recovery?” Ingrid asked, absentmindedly rubbing at her left ring finger. Sylvain frowned at the action, remember the deep Fraldarius blue stone that used to sit there.

Rodrigue’s expression turned solemn, “I am told he is recovering well. I believe he will be fit enough to return with us to Fhirdiad after the ceremonies.”

“‘Well’?” a sharp voice scoffed from behind them, “The boar’s as much of a beast now as when he first woke up here.” Sylvain felt righteous anger bubbling his gut at the blatant disgust and disrespect for both his friend and future king as he whipped his head to see who it was. Out of the corner of his eye Ingrid and Rodrigue did the same so quickly he was distantly surprised none of them had given themselves whiplash.

It took Sylvain an embarrassingly long time to realize who exactly was standing in front of them, swathed in the soft draping fabrics of Saints, “Felix?!”, after all, how horrible is it to not recognize your childhood best friend?

Felix scoffed again, “Who else?” he demanded, briefly flicking sharp amber eyes up to meet his gaze before immediately looking away again, hands still on his hips. For a second, Sylvain felt only pure relief staring at who he still considered his best friend even after these last seven years. His eyes still burned like little gems above the remaining baby fat in his cheeks and his hair was still so dark from where it escaped the ponytail under his deep hood. Felix was still Felix. 

But then reality caught up and the similarities ended. Eyes that were once round and wet were narrowed and dry. The childlike wonder in his voice was replaced with sharp anger. Felix’s posture was stiff, his lips tight in a harsh frown. Sylvain put his hands behind his head to hide how they shook as the image in his mind of the sweet little boy from his childhood was replaced with the angry, distant teen in front of him. Judging by the silence from Rodrigue and Ingrid beside him, he wasn’t the only one that was shocked. 

“You look good Felix,” he flashed his most charming smile, followed with a wink, “Sainthood treating you well then?” Felix’s scowl deepened, unmoved even as Ingrid quickly punched him in the shoulder with a quiet but scolding “ _ Sylvain” _ , despite that, Sylvain’s attempt at diffusing the shock around them worked with Rodrigue spinning back into action.

“Felix - you’ve grown so much, son!” unlike the child of his youth Felix ducked under Rodrigue’s arms, dodging the hug, before stepping back a few feet. 

“Don’t touch me,” this time his arms folded over the black and gold fabric covering his chest.

Rodrigue stood with his arms outstretched before pulling back himself, albeit with more grace and pose. He shook his head slightly, “Come Felix, I know you are upset but you should not let that weigh down on reunions and celebrations-”

“‘Celebrations?’” Felix demanded, his eyes hardening even more, “What is there to possibly celebrate?”

“The Calm your brother brought with his noble sacrifice, along with Saint Lambert and Dame Helena. He died like a true Guardian-”

“Shut up!” even Sylvain jumped at the level of venom in his voice. Some people around them had stopped moving, starting to focus on the commotion in front of them.

“How about we all calm down,” he tried, hands out in a placating manner.

Felix wasn’t done, “There’s no nobility in sacrifice,” he hissed, “only death.”

“Felix that’s enough.” apparently not even seven years of distance was enough to save someone from Ingrid’s scolding.

Too bad this new Felix was immune, “No I am so  _ sick _ of everyone glorifying his death. Death is death - nothing noble about it.”

“ _ Felix _ ,” Sylvain blinked in shock at Rodrigue’s tone, trying to remember a time when the other man had ever sounded so angry with him.

“It should have been you.” and there was that suffocating silence again. Felix barreled on, either oblivious or uncaring, “Glenn was nineteen - it should have been you! Or better yet it should have been Sir Gustav, but he was too busy saving the stupid boar who snuck along, probably attracted to the blood and death-”

Sylvain could hardly hear Ingrid’s gasp over the roaring in his ears as he watched Felix’s pale cheek turn red in the distinct shape of a hand. Even Rodrigue looked shocked by his actions for just a moment, “ _ Enough  _ Felix. Do not speak about you prince like that.” 

For a second Felix looked just how Sylvain remembered - eyes bright and misty, just one wrong word from tears. But that second was quickly eclipsed into a distant apathy, “Whatever. He’s not my prince, not anymore,” and with that he turned and was gone in the crowd as quickly as he had appeared. Weaving through the gawking spectators like he was nothing more than a ghost. Gone before Sylvain could even think of following.

Rodrigue let out a heavy sigh and when Sylvain turned back to him, it was almost as if it had been another handful of years since they’d last met, “Perhaps I was too harsh…” he murmured, not seeming like he’d intended for them to hear.

Ingrid took one of his hands in hers, “No Lord Rodrigue, you were right. Felix was out of line, especially for a Saint in training at the celebration of Calm.” when had she begun to sound so righteous...or had she always been like that? “He’s probably just...a bit overwhelmed with everything. Though we are blessed with Calm, this is probably not an easy time for them,”

“Yeah, let’s go inside and find our seats. We can catch up with him after and sort this all out before heading home, Duke Fraldarius. Fe is probably just having a temper tantrum, like when we were kids,” he forced himself to put as much cheer in his tone as he could, no matter how false, piggybacking off Ingrid’s attempt to diffuse the tension. She sent him a grateful look as Rodrigue nodded, gesturing for them to follow him. 

______________

The sermon and funeral were as solemn and hypocritical as Sylvain had expected. Praising the sanctity that was the gift of life while perpetuating the importance and duty of sacrifice. Two sides of the same coin. The many can only reap the benefits of Calm thanks to the ultimate sacrifice of the few. At least the Oracle that gave the sending was cute, if a bit young, with etherally green hair and eyes to match. And Sylvain got out of sitting next to his father which was quite the bonus. 

Despite their plans, they never managed to corner Felix afterwards. When the three of them searched there was no trace of the cloaked boy and eventually they split - Ingrid collected by her own father and Rodrigue having to take back up the mantle of proud Duke as opposed to grieving father. 

“Sylvain,” but just because they couldn’t find him, Felix seemed to have no problem catching Sylvain once he was alone.

“Feeling better, Fe?” He got himself another scowl for the nickname, though nowhere near as frosty as before. 

“Don’t call me that,” and wasn’t that a much more tame response than expected? Sylvain took a moment to study him, trying to relearn the body language he used to be able to read so well.

“How are you? Really?” because wasn’t this just like how it had been before? Back when Felix used to run crying to him to make things better when everyone else was too busy for the second son. 

“I hate this,” Sylvain frowned, but before he could say anything, he caught a flash of red over Felix’s head - shit was that his father heading this way? This distraction means he missed Felix’s gaze tilting up to just the other side of direct eye contact, “I don’t want to be some sacrifice. Do you....do you remember our promise-”  _ shit _ , it was.

“Hold that thought Fe,” Felix’s eyebrows pulled together, confusion warring with indignation about being interrupted. Sylvain caught his salvation out of the corner of his eye in the form of two young women who thought they were being coy with their stares. Throwing an arm over Felix’s thin shoulders he angled his body towards them, making sure to be appropriately theatrical, “Wouldn’t you much rather talk about something - or better yet to  _ someone _ \- more fun?” he sealed the deal with a wink. 

If their relationship had been like when they were kids and inseparable, it might’ve been comical to watch the way Felix’s eyes widened and his face flushed when he caught his implication. Now, with years and a great demonic beast between them, it felt like the final string tying them has snapped, “ _ You- _ ” Felix seethed, tearing his arm off his shoulder. Sylvain watched as he stood there, looking like he might combust into raging flames on the spot. Instead, Felix just curled long, thin fingers into shaking fists, “Do what you want. I don’t care anymore.” was all that was bitten out before he whirled away. Sylvain watched him storm off for another moment before raising his shoulders, dropping them as dramatically as he could while turning his best puppy dog eyes back to the girls. As he walked over to bask in their hollow sympathies, he made a mental note to slip an apology letter and some coin to one of the monastery guards before he left back to Gautier.

He had a feeling Felix would forgive him, just like before.   
  


Two weeks after returning to Gautier territory Sylvain found out how wrong he was. A letter arrived, asking for any information regarding the mysterious disappearance of Saint Felix of Fraldarius.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next update will be October 15!


	3. Ernest/Beginnings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The plot begins!

As soon as he was old enough to know the value of his crest and the weight of his family’s noble expectations, Sylvain had dreaded when he would inevitably be forced into a loveless marriage to produce crest babies, furthering the Gautier line. The realization that his only worth within his father’s eyes was how profitable a stud horse he would become.

In actuality, it’s not so bad.

Arielle Kleiman is nice enough with her golden hair and chocolate eyes. If he’s going to be trapped in a loveless marriage it might as well be to someone beautiful. Of course his father cares less about Arielle’s looks and more about the minor crest of Charon and the new Kleiman lands that had previously been the Peninsula of Duscar, before Sin had leveled it of course. Oh well, his father could concern himself with territories all he wanted - Sylvain was much more interested in the bare shoulder exposed dangerously close to his mouth.

“Sylvain!” came the breathy cry followed by the giggles, right on cue after he brushed his lips against the milky expanse. 

Sylvain gave his own charming chuckle in response, “Good morning beautiful,” he murmured along with a few kisses to the column of her neck. 

A thin hand came up to swat playfully at his face, “Sylvain stop! We don’t have time for this right now,” though the scolding lost most of its affect within her giggling. Sylvain tightened his arms around her, grumbling into her warmth.

“Do we really? We have a few more days here, why not enjoy our morning a bit?” one hand slid further along the curve of her waist. Arielle gave a hum, pausing as if to consider it before pushing him away again.

“Sylvain we came to have our marriage blessed by one of the Oracles!” as she sat up he hid a wince, her voice suddenly too shrill in the morning air. Sylvain rolled onto his back, letting out a quiet groan as she swung pale legs over the side of the bed, “Now come on! I want you to take me to get some of those sweet pastries from the marketplace before they start holding audiences at the monastery! They’re supposed to be specially made in honor of the Millennium Festival,”

Sylvain mustered up a charming grin as he began to pull himself from the warm bed, “Of course babe,”  
______________

“Oh Syl _vain_ \- look at how cute these earrings are!” Sylvain turned to look at the pink tear-drop shaped earring Arielle was holding next to her face. 

He shot her a wink, “Those would perfectly accent your blush, baby,” his mouth twitched slightly at the way her face lit up with the complement. 

“You’re right! But oh, what about these…” while she turned back to the stall, much to the enthusiasm of the jeweler, Sylvain turned to take another look around the marketplace. While Garreg Mach’s marketplace wasn’t anywhere near the size of the one in Fhirdiad, it was still buzzing with activity. What it lacked in size it made up for in variety - Garreg Mach was technically neutral territory, belonging to the Church of Seiros. It’s monastery served to train Saints and other holy men and women from all three nations. As such, the marketplace had all sorts of tastes to satisfy, thus boasting merchants from not just all corners of Fódlan, but some of the other surrounding nations as well. It was also located directly within the gates, making it a mandatory place to pass through for those traveling to and from the monastery, a perfect setting for running into someone unexpected. 

“Arielle, pick out whatever you like. I’ll be right back.” Sylvain didn’t wait for a response before quickly following after the familiar blonde head he had caught from the corner of his eye. It was shorter than he had last seen but there was no mistaking the shade of green of the ribbons in her hair or the cape at her back. The closer he got as he navigated his way through the crowd only furthered his confidence, “Hey wait - Ingrid!” Ingrid turned just in time for him to watch green eyes widen in shock before his arms curled around her in a laughing hug.

“Sylvain?!” despite the surprise she hugged him back just as tightly. 

He held her for another moment before pulling back, “Wow Ing, you look great! Love the new hair,” he rubbed a strand of chin length hair between his fingers. 

Ingrid flushed lightly before gently slapping his hand away, “Still with the empty flirtations, huh Sylvain? I thought you might have stopped after we received news of your engagement,” 

Sylvain forced a chuckle as he scratched at the back of his head, “You know me, I just can’t resist,” nothing like a little self-deprecation coated in a joke. Ingrid frowned at his tone, but before she could respond a possessive arm linked tightly around his.

“Sylvie, who’s this?” honestly Sylvain had never been so happy to see his fiance.

“Ah Arielle, there you are!” he threw his most charming grin at her before turning away to make introductions. Gesturing at Ingrid, “This is Ingrid Galatea, a dear childhood friend of mine,” Ingrid gave an awkward smile as he turned back, “Ing, this is Arielle Kleiman, my most beloved fiance,” 

Arielle glowed in the attention, “Oh it’s so wonderful to finally meet you, Sylvie has told me so much about you!” he hadn’t. 

“Likewise,” Sylvain had to hold back a chuckle at how awkward Ingrid looked, “are you here for the Millennium Festival?”

“Yes, as well as to have our engagement blessed by one of the Oracles. I just thought it would be so romantic to receive our blessing during the 1000 year anniversary of the first Calm. The Margrave Gautier and Sylvie here thought it was a brilliant idea when my father brought it up,” she turned her doe-y brown eyes back to him.

Another grin, “So romantic,”.

“Right, well congratulations to you both,”

Sylvain wasn’t about to let her leave him here that quickly, “What about you Ingrid? Are you here to receive a blessing from the Oracles too?” the only part of the celebration he imagined peaking her interests was the nightly feast.

Ingrid flushed a bit, deciphering the meaning of the tease in his tone, “No. Actually I was here hoping to offer my services as a Guardian for Saint Lysithea since I’d heard her Pilgrimage was going to begin at the end of the Festival,” Sylvain felt his chest clench in cold fear as Arielle gave a gasp of excitement at his side. Ingrid frowned, “When I got here though the guards told me she had already begun her Pilgrimage. The recent kidnappings have everyone on edge and tradition is less important than ensuring a safe and successful Pilgrimage,”

“Right! My father told me that they’re allowing Saints to have more Guardians now after Saint Edelgard’s disappearance,” Arielle leaned closer to them as she delivered her next piece of gossip, “I also heard that they’re even allowing people to serve as Guardians even if they don’t have a crest! Can you believe that?”

Sylvain forced away a wince at Arielle’s words, trying to arrange his face into sympathy despite the fear in his heart, “Bad luck there, huh Ingrid?”

He did not like the determined look in her eyes, “I’m here to petition Oracle Seteth to grant me permission and aid me in locating Saint Lysithea so that I may pledge myself to her Pilgrimage,” Ingrid paused for a moment, “I want to help her defeat Sin for good, in honor of Sir Glenn’s sacrifice,”

Arielle released her chokehold on his arm to grasp one of Ingrid’s gloved hands in both of hers, “He was your fiance before he became a Guardian, right? You must have been so proud of his sacrifice,” Sylvain felt a shot of anger at the grief welling in the sea of green. Before either of them had the chance to respond they were all shoved closer together as the crowd around them began to hastily make their way towards the monastery steps. 

“Hey watch it!” Sylvain called over his shoulder, Arielle clinging to his arm again as Ingrid asked, “What’s going on?”

One passerby took pity on them, “Two people are demanding an audience with Oracle Seteth right now,”

“How is that anything new?” Sylvain’s patience for the Church of Seiros and their blind followers was really reaching its daily limit.

“Well apparently they’re demanding access to the temple shrine to begin a Pilgrimage!” 

They watched him run off, desperate to get sight of the action. Sylvain frowned at the pensive, hopeful look on Ingrid’s face, “I didn’t think there were any Saints left of age to begin…” she mumbled, more to herself than them. 

Before he could say anything Arielle tugged on both their arms, “Come on, I want to see!”

“Babe come on, it looks like a crowd - hey wait, Ingrid!” Sylvain’s protests fell on deaf ears as Ingrid began marching towards the steps, Arielle dragging him along behind her.

As they approached the steps Sylvain couldn’t help but be a bit impressed with the crowd the two had drawn. The hooded figures stood at the foot of the stairs, a wide berth between them and the onlookers. The first, despite the hood covering their face, was definitely a woman. A long black cloak spilled over black shorts and an armored corset. The second figure’s coloring was brighter - an asymmetrical teal overcoat with a furred hood drawn up and dark, thigh-high boots. Both had swords strapped to belts around their hips, _must be wannabe Guardians then_. Before Sylvain could continue to critique either of the Guardians’ questionable tastes in armor, a hush fell over the crowd. Looking up, the heavy doors of the monastery began to swing open, revealing what had to be Oracle Seteth surrounded by various knights.

Oracle Seteth was a stern faced man, swathed in the deep blue and golds of the Church of Seiros. He wore a golden circlet, partially obscured by the ethereal green hair that designated all Oracles, falling to his chin in loose waves. Sylvain watched as he surveyed the two below him, waiting for the crowd to be silent before addressing them, “I have been told you seek audience with me to begin a Pilgrimage. Is this true?” from the tone and command of his voice, Oracle Seteth did not seem like an easy man to surprise. 

And yet his brows rose as his eyes widened along with the rest of onlookers as the woman removed her hood, revealing her own, impossible light green hair, “Yes.”

Arielle’s fingers tightened around his arm as Ingrid gasped in shock beside him, “An Oracle? Are they allowed to serve as Guardians? I thought they protected the temple shrines?” Sylvain didn’t have a chance to try and respond to Ingrid before Oracle Seteth recovered.

“You are… but how-” Seteth cut himself off with a slight shake of his head, pursing his thin lips as he took in the crowd around them. “Perhaps this is a discussion that is better continued inside. Where is your petitioning Saint? There are none with us who have yet to begin their Pilgrimage,” 

Later when asked, Sylvain would swear that the roar of blood in his ears and the rapid beating of his chest began before the second hooded figure gave a harsh, “Right here.”. That his palms began to sweat before those leather gloves reached up to remove his fur hood. That he was suddenly struck with the knowledge of just _who_ was in front of him after all these years before he laid eyes on midnight blue hair and narrow amber eyes.

“ _Felix_ ,” the name rushed out of him on all the breath from his lungs. Beside him he felt Ingrid’s hand grip his, but his eyes didn’t, _couldn’t_ , stray from the childhood ghost in front of him.

“Saint Felix,” though his voice was steady, Seteth couldn’t mask the shocked set of his eyes, “you have returned,”

“Yes,” an awkward pause with Felix briefly turning to the woman before he straightened his back and turned back to Seteth, “I’m here to begin my Pilgrimage to defeat Sin.”

Oracle Seteth stared at him for another moment before nodding and stepping aside. He gestured to the monastery entrance behind him, cape billowing lightly as he moved, “Please do come inside. We will have you fitted into the robes and I will lead you and your Guardian-”

“Byleth,” Felix interrupted, the woman, Byleth, nodding beside him.

“Then I will lead you and your Guardian, Dame Byleth, to the shrine so that you may petition the Thorn Dragon to begin your Pilgrimage.” Oracle Seteth gave a steady smile, “This is truly fortuitous that you have returned to us in these turbulent times. A sign from the merciful Goddess herself,” too bad the click of those thigh-high boots along the stone steps couldn’t mask the great scoff he released.

As the great doors shut behind them, the crowd outside exploded in excited gossip. 

“Saint Felix of Fraldarius? I thought he was dead?”

“I heard he’d been taken!”

“Is his Guardian an Oracle?!” 

“His brother was one of the Guardians that brought the last Calm!”

“The Goddess must favor that family. They were practically born to serve,”  
______________

“That was Felix. Felix is _alive_ ,” Sylvain wasn’t quite sure how they got here but they were back in Sylvain and Arielle’s room at the inn, sitting around the wooden table in shock. Ingrid continued, “They searched for him - _we_ searched for him. Where has he _been_?”

“I thought he hated the Church…” Sylvain mumbled more to himself, thinking back on that last conversation they’d shared at Glenn’s funeral. Hypothesizing what would have happened had he listened to Felix that day had caused many sleepless nights over the last decade. 

Ingrid heard him anyway, “Then why was he with an Oracle? How is she his Guardian?”

“I don’t know Ing-”

“Maybe he went away with her in secret for training?” Sylvain blinked, trying to hide a wince. He’d forgotten that Arielle was with them. She flushed a bit under their blank stares but continued, “You heard what they were saying in the marketplace! Sir Glenn became the youngest Guardian to aid in defeating Sin ten years ago. Maybe they thought he was a prodigy so they sent him away for special training?”

Sylvain thought back to biting words in the midst of Calm, “I really don’t think he would have agreed to that,”

“No wait, Arielle may be on to something,” Ingrid had a sad, pensive look on her face - the one she got whenever someone brought up her lost fiance. “Felix always did idolize Sir Glenn,”

“You do remember what he said at the funeral, right?”

Ingrid let out a frustrated sound, “He was fourteen and just lost his brother. We were all upset,”

Sylvain shot her a skeptical look, “I think we can agree that he was more than just ‘upset’,”

“Regardless, that was ten years ago. What’s important is that he’s remembered his duty and returned,” Ingrid downed the rest of her water before rising, “I need to go pack,”

Arielle blinked, “Pack? You aren’t going to stay for the rest of the festival?”

Ingrid set her shoulders, “I’m going to ask to be one of Saint Felix’s Guardians,” 

Sylvain felt choked, “Ingrid-”

“Oh my god!” Arielle gasped, “That’s just like a fairytale - from childhood friends to Saint and Guardian!” she clapped her hands together, “With a bond like that I _know_ you’ll be able to defeat Sin!”

“Thank you,” Ingrid looked pleased, a light blush dusting her cheeks. Fastening her cape back over her shoulders she walked to the door, “I’ll look for you later if the bells ring,” the bells were used to signify that a Saint had begun their Pilgrimage - a signal that anyone in Garreg Mach who wanted to glimpse a Saint’s new bone-bleached hair and transformation to head to the monastery courtyard in congratulations. It was one of the few occasions that the monastery gates would be open to the public.

Alternatively they were a death toll. Nobody survived Sainthood. 

Arielle sighed in excitement, leaning into him, “Oh Sylvie you must be so proud of your friends - a King, a Saint and a Guardian! Oh!” she turned to look at him with round chocolate eyes, “Would you please ask Saint Felix to bless our union instead of Oracle Seteth? We’d be the first ones he blessed! Imagine, being able to tell our kids that their parents were the first to be blessed in marriage by a Calm bringing Saint. It would be so romantic and I just _know_ he’s going to be the one to defeat Sin this cycle,”

“Of course babe,” despite Arielle’s warmth pressed against him Sylvain just felt cold, cold, cold.

______________

The bells chimed just as the burning sun began to set beyond the monastery’s stone walls. If the marketplace had been full from the morning’s drama then it was absolutely bursting. The gatekeeper was patiently turning onlookers away, explaining that the gates had been open for an hour and they’d already reached capacity. They’d only made it through themselves after flashing their crests and noble standing. Even within the monastery’s walls the courtyard was overrun with visiting nobles and the earliest of commoners. Everyone wanted a glimpse of the Millennium Festival Saint and his mysterious Oracle Guardian.

“Oh Sylvie let’s move over there, I think we’d have a better view of the chapel balcony,” Arielle dragged him along to her chosen piece of grass, her enthusiasm overshadowing his anxious gloom. Sylvain let himself be dragged as he tried to catch a glimpse of Ingrid in the crowd, wondering if he’d have any chance at all of talking her out of it. He finally found her just as the bells rang again, ahead of the balcony doors swinging open and the crowd silencing, travel pack laying at her feet.

Oracle Seteth stepped out first, “Thank you all for heeding the call of the bells,” he greeted the crowd. His voice carried strong over them all, “The Thorn Dragon has answered the prayers of Saint Felix on the eve of the millennium anniversary of when Saint Nemesis first defeated Sin and has granted her blessing upon his Pilgrimage,” Seteth paused to allow for the cheers that had erupted throughout the crowd. He allowed another few moments of noise before raising his arm. As silence fell once more he continued, “Now Saint Felix, please come forth and show the proof of your devotion to the faith and the people of Fódlan,” Sylvain’s fingers seized. 

The sunset’s fading light danced off the new stark-white coloring of his hair, pulled up in a messy high-ponytail. Even from a distance the amber of his eyes stood out starkly against his face which seemed even paler than before, despite the new lack of contrast in coloring. Felix stepped out in the traditional Saint uniform, crest of Fraldarius embroidered in gold standing out proudly against the rest of the black tabard. Tight black shorts hugged muscular thighs where they peeked out of the draping fabrics of the white short-sleeved robe held in place beneath the belted tabard. He moved with a surprising grace as he made his way barefoot to the large gap between the railing at the edge of the balcony. He paused, surveying the crowd below him with a an almost challenging expression before he closed his eyes, took a breath;

And allowed himself to fall. 

Arielle’s tiny hand in his was the only thing keeping Sylvain grounded as he watched, breath held. He’d missed Felix’s first transformation into the Shield Dragon of Fraldarius when he saved him from the well - only a blurred color in his drowning vision. Now he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the petals that appeared below his feet, flying up past him into the sky. As they moved past his body they covered him in a bright light. Sylvain felt like the transformation was both endless and instantaneous. One second Felix was falling from a frightening height in a flurry of petals and the next a dragon was in his place.

As the Thorn Dragon came to the ground before them, it could no longer be described as a fall, far too graceful. It seemed to glide, almost like moving through water. It was slender, with long billowing limbs. The dragon’s torso was a deep burgundy that lightened out along its limbs and wings into a dusty pink. Ears came down to frame its narrow face to look almost like a budding rose. Yellow, thorny vines twisted around its body, justifying its title of the Thorn Dragon.

Felix’s Guardian made her appearance as the dragon finally landed in the courtyard. Large amber eyes watched as she slowly approached, scaled tail flicking behind it almost like a cat. As she finally stood before him she dropped to a kneel, head lowered, “Saint Felix, I pledge my blade and life to your Pilgrimage. I pledge to guide you to the Tailtean Plains and to fight by your side in your battle against Sin,” Dame Byleth paused, breaking protocol to stare into the dragon’s eyes, “I pledge to stand with you as you put an end to Sin, once and for all.”

Nobody spoke as they took in the fact that the pledging Guardian, an _Oracle_ , broke from the traditional script. Light lids dropped and rose over those amber eyes like a sunset as the dragon slowly blinked at her before leaning forward and dropping it’s snout to her shoulder in an imitation of a sword from a knighting ceremony. After a moment that head lifted back up and slowly moved side to side, taking in the crowd before it once more. Rising up, it flexed its wings and let out a roar before vanishing in a swirl of light and petals.

In place of the Thorn Dragon Saint Felix swayed ever so slightly, gaze a bit dazed. Byleth rose as he forced himself to straighten, shaking off the exhaustion that was sure to be weighing in his bones through sheer force of will. In front of him once more, Byleth bowed before moving off to stand slightly behind him, a Guardian’s customary place.

Above, Oracle Seteth brought his hands together in an echoing clap, “Today Saint Felix, first crest of Fraldarius, has been granted the second crest of Ernest and with it, the Thorn Dragon’s blessing of beginnings. Saint Felix, may you use the faith and blessings granted before you in your Pilgrimage as you cleanse your soul to bear the powers gifted by the Goddess to protect our people from Sin,” he turned back to the gathered masses, “May you all join me in celebrating the beginning of our Saint’s Pilgrimage, and wish him strength on his journey,” on that final note the crowd took their cue to swarm him, offering their praises in delight. As he disappeared into the crowd, Sylvain couldn’t get the image of those burning amber eyes out of his mind.

The man and the dragon’s.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you think! Next chapter will be November 1st

**Author's Note:**

> Saints - Major crest bearers who embark on a Pilgrimage to defeat Sin and bring the Calm
> 
> Guardians - Individuals who accompany Saints on their Pilgrimage, traditionally minor crest bearers
> 
> Oracles - High-ranking members of the Church of Seiros who lead ceremonies and are said to have an intimate connection to the goddess. Identifiable by their unusually colored hair and eyes


End file.
